Ashes
by The Salad is Dressing
Summary: When Jesse de Silva meets a mysterious girl at a Party, his intense fascination with her leads him into a spiral of mystery as he struggles to figure out the mystery behind her in time. [AU]


Disclaimer: The Mediator belongs to Meg Cabot, and The Butterfly Tattoo/The White Mercedes belongs to Philip Pullman. Don't sue!

I just read the most amazing book, It was called 'The Butterfly Tattoo' or "The White Mercedes', by Philip Pullman, and It inspired me to write this story. It's slightly based on the book, and the first chapter is very similar, but It's different, to fit with the characters and idea's. It's only loosely based on the book; I have my own ideas for the plot and such, so it will be very different. Of course, It's AU, and, in Third Person, lol. Jesse isn't a mediator, and it's in the present, not 1850. Again – I, the author, do _not_ hate Paul, I _love_ him. It's the story.

**Ashes - Prologue**

'_Experience is the Name People give to their Mistakes.' – Oscar Wilde_

Jesse De Silva met the girl he was going to kill on a warm night in June, when one of the rich students from the local college, Jake Ackerman, was hosting a graduation party for himself and his peers.

Being one of the major parties of the year, Ackerman had put a lot of effort into making sure the event would be a memorable one. Flashing lights reflecting off the walls, limitless alcoholic drinks and other beverages, A live local band to alternate with loud music blaring from various stereos - these were only some of the highlights of the Party.

Only those worthy of an invitation were permitted attendance, as both Jake Ackerman and his brother were ruthless when it came to their opinions on people, mostly revolving around their physical appearance and social status.

But, that was to be expected, judging from their upbringing, leaving them to lack neither in money nor self-assurance, like many of their peers.

Jesse himself was not a peer or friend of Jake's, he had a very different background, having been hired by Jake among other's to set up the Party. The payment, of course, was not what you would call lenient, but Jesse couldn't object; He knew he could easily be replaced by someone more willing, and he needed the money.

Jesse was the only male in a family consisting mostly of women: His mother and his seven sisters. As his Father had died a few years previously, he was obliged to help provide for the family. They weren't exceptionally wealthy already, but, quite the opposite, so the need to provide for his family was pressured by his increasing guilt over their situation.

Jesse sighed; the party was in full swing and he personally felt uncomfortable being the only sober one amongst a crowd of utterly trashed teenagers, poisoned from the alcohol running through their system.

_Sin_, was the first thought to occur when he gazed out at the blur of moving bodies.

Being a man of great moral, Jesse did not believe in the consumption of alcohol or drugs. Being of Hispanic descent, his whole family had grown up with religion, he had been embossed with decorum from a very young age.

But, Jesse was nearing his eighteenth birthday, and with every tragedy he saw, his faith slipped a little, as did his view on the world and the human race. His innocence long lost, Jesse knew of hardships that not many of his age did. The sudden death of his father had forced him to mature early.

He wandered from the party. He was unfamiliar with the upper-class lifestyle of those attending, and he was glad.

His job was done, he'd set up the party efficiently, everything had gone to Mr Ackerman's plan.

Why couldn't he just take his pay and leave? He thought.

Most likely because at least one sober man was needed, in case of emergency. All the other handy-men had taken the time indulge themselves while they could.

The party was getting so out of hand, it was a surprise the Police hadn't been alerted... but then again, the Ackerman's place in society was so high they were almost considered above the law.

Sitting down on the fresh emerald lawn surrounding the large Ackerman residence, Jesse sighed. How he longed to come home and listen to see his family. To watch the delight spread across his sister's face as he described to them of the amazing features he witnessed at the party, leaving out the sin, the flesh, and the drink.

He closed his eyes and parted his mouth drowsily, imagining his mother's hot pumpkin soup trickling down his throat.

A moment later, Jesse heard footsteps pressing on the moist blades of grass behind him, rising, he stood to see a young girl of around his age, rushing across the lawn with terror in her eyes, as if she was being chased.

Those eye's… he'd never forget those _eyes_. So wide and green, like liquid emeralds. The raw emotion they possessed, the fear…

She was standing directly in front of him, chestnut curls spilling out from a black clip and down her pale, slender neck. Her hands were frantically hiking her white dress up slightly, revealing dainty bare feet.

She stared at him for a moment, pleading him with those green orbs.

"Are you alright, Miss?"

She glanced behind her, and he heard the familiar sound of male voices, obviously intoxicated… she however, looked perfectly sober.

Her bare shoulders quivered from either the piercing cold or pure fear.

"They're following me." She confessed breathily, panting slightly from fright. Her voice sounded unlike the common Californian chord he was used to hearing here.

Jesse's heart went out to her, swollen with empathy.

"Here, see that garden shed? Go hide in there, I'll guard you."

Jesse was never one to pity, but she was different. There was something about her that made him feel protective, almost possessively so. And not only that, he always despised the way men could intoxicate themselves so easily and treat women so horrifyingly, and this was a chance to show his disgust.

While the mysterious girl rushed of to hide, he felt a tinge of happiness that she so willingly trusted him; she didn't even hesitate to run to the garden shed.

But then he realized that she was in a situation where she sort of _had_ to trust him, if she didn't want to be caught by the men following her.

The male voices became louder and in the darkness he sensed they were growing closer. In seconds, the two said men were standing before him.

The first one was the image of testosterone: All bulging biceps and muscle, thick with strength, hard expression. He may have looked more intimidating, had he not been wobbling and struggling to keep his balance, obviously having drunk too much. He was practically pulsating with anticipation; Of what, Jesse didn't know.

The second was less macho, yet still muscled. He had a handsome chiselled face, looking permanently self assured. He had a wise, confident look about him, whereas the other one looked more bloodthirsty than anything. The one thing that chilled Jesse was his eyes, so blue and light, like ice. The complete opposite of the moist green ones he had been admiring earlier.

Not only did this man look confident, but arrogant, and dangerous, like the type who gets what he wants, whatever measures he has to follow through.

"Have you seen a young woman around?" He questioned, smirking.

Neither looked fazed by Jesse's appearance; He knew he didn't belong with these people, but physically, with his crisp black hair, toned muscled body and deep set brown eyes, he seemed to fit in just fine.

"No, sorry." He stated.

This answer was obviously not what the young man was expecting. His smirk faltered a little,

"Are you sure? Because, it seems unlikely for you not to have noticed her, she came this way…"

The stocky one grinned maliciously,

"Lemme at him," he slurred, much to Jesse's chagrin.

He made a motion towards Jesse, but the man who Jesse assumed to be 'Paul' whispered something incoherable, and the bulky man was held back by an invisible force.

He spoke again,

"This girl, Suze, she isn't right in the head, you see. She's wack. She," He paused dramatically to emphasise his next words, 'Believes she can _talk to the dead_."

Jesse felt slightly disturbed at the behaviour of the two individuals before him, but he stuck to his story, whatever they said.

"I'm sorry sir, I can't help you."

Paul smiled and raised his eyebrows, 'Okay, than, Mr de Silva. I suggest you tell me if you catch sight of her."

As he and the stocky man walked off into darkness, seemingly in the direction of the party, jesse didn't contemplate how they knew his name…

As soon as he felt they were well and truly gone, he crept towards the Garden shed.

Opening the door slightly, he called out to her, "Hello?"

He opened the door further and slipped inside, leaving it slightly open.

'Hello? It's me Jesse… those men have gone."

He heard a quiet voice from near the end of the shed whisper a small 'Thanks'.

"It's no problem; I take it your name is Suze? Short for Suzanne, perhaps?"

The voice spoke up again, louder and more confident this time,

"No, Susannah, as in, 'Oh Susannah, oh don't you cry for me.'

Jesse smiled in recognition, he knew the song. His mother used to sing it, before his father died, tearing the family apart.

"But... but I prefer Suze." The voice murmured quietly, as if regretful of speaking so abruptly.

"I don't see why, Susannah is a beautiful name."

There was silence, and Jesse felt like she was treating him with non-chalance, which irritated him.

"You can come out of the shadows, its safe."

Again, he was answered with silence. He was strangely disappointed, he did not understand why he was now longing to hear the voice of the girl when he'd only just learnt her name.

"Suze, I know this sounds silly, but I'd like to see you again."

He entranced, and he'd only just met her. He wanted her to emerge from the shadows, so he could once again see those swirling eddies of green, her pale figure in the moonlight. She was beautiful, there was no denying that.

She laughed softly, 'You don't want to get involved with someone like me."

"Why?"

She laughed again, sadly this time.

'Never mind. Goodbye Jesse. And thankyou."

'Wait, Su-" He stopped himself. She was gone; he could feel the absence of her presence like a knife to his back. He left the garden shed and returned to the party, a warm feeling in his stomach, all the while Susannah's pretty face clouding his thoughts.

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Please Review, I'd like to know what you think! Should I bother to continue with it? I've never written in third person before, lol.


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